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A Book of Poems 



By IDA PUTNAM TUBBS 



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Copyrighted, 1913 
By Ida Putnam Tubes 



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©CI.A854480 



DEDICATED OCTOBER 3, 1912 





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"Every prophet is without honor in 
his own Country; 
But I'll not use a non de plume. 
So the public won 't have to guess 
If it was Written by her or whom. 



CONTENTS 



PAGE 

Dedicatory Poem - - - - 11 

The Ill-fated Titanic - - - . 13 

The Astor Baby - - - - *" 26 

Mamma's Got A Baby - - - 28 

Never - - - - - 29 

My Neighbor's Baby - - - 30 

My Gift - - - - - 31 

For The Army ... 32 

Progression - - - - 33 

Baby's Spirit - . - - 34 

One Of The Eleven - - - 35 

The Husband Of Your Youth - -. 36 

Never Meddle - - - - 37 

The Big Insurance Man - - 38 

Don't Tell - - - - 39 

Marriage A Lottery . - - 40 

The Mother Of A Drunkard - - 41 

Right Means Right ... 43 

Little Toldie - - - - 44 

Meditations .... 47 

A Poem Without A Subject - - 48 

The Doomed Pastor - - - 49 



PAGE 

To A Father - - - - 51 

The Old Musician . _ . 52 
Don't Cry .... 53 

Little Hazel - - ' - - 54 

The Greed for Gold - - - 55 

Sweet Memories _ _ . 56 

The Diamond Fields Above - - - 57 

The Niagara Falls Disaster - - 58 

Fire Aboard Ship - - - - 60 

Generations .... 65 

The Maximum - - - - 66 

Commencement Day . . _ 68 

A Handkerchief Waved In Fun - - 70 

In Times Of Distress - - - 80 

Will You Be True When You Are Mine - 82 

The Yellow Rose ... 84 

The Doomed Theatre - - - 87 

Sin - - - - - 92 

The Broken Vow - - - - 95 

The Cyclone - - . . 98 

The Supreme Monarch _ _ _ loo 

The Angelus - ... 101 

A Puff From Knowledge - - - 102 

Old Zanzibar ... - 103 

My Castle Is My Domain - - - 108 

Summertime Vacation ... HO 

The Codicil - - - - 112 

A True Rebekah - - - 113 



PAGE 

What Is All When All Is Told . - - 116 

The Second Girl - - - 118 

The Uplifted Hand - - - - 119 

The Fatal Shot - - - 120 

The Golden Wedding Day - - - 123 

The Famous Picture - - - 125 

Friendship, Or Who Is Thy Neighbor - 127 

The Holy City - - - - 128 

When We Understand - - - 130 

You'll Miss Me - . . 132 

Always Something . . _ 134 

Little Jewell, Or The Saviour's Blossom - 136 

Our Infant - - - - 137 
Lines To A Friend On The Death Of Her Child 138 

Little Orphan - - - - 139 

We Miss Him - - - - 140 

A Prayer For Baby - - - 142 

Sympathy - _ _ - 143 

Lines On The Death Of Our Druggist - 144 

Your Bud And Our Blossom - - 145 

A Prayer For Teddy - - - 146 

In Memory _ . _ - 147 

The Fundamental Principles - - 148 

The Reunion . - - - 149 

A Misplaced Confidence - . - 150 

To My Mother - - - 151 

God's Best Gift to Man - - - 152 

The Thread Of Life - . . 153 



PAGE 

So Mote It Be - - - - 154 

Her Indian Lover . _ _ 155 

Life's Mirror _ _ . _ 157 

Dreamland - _ _ _ 153 

My Copyright - - - - 159 

My Title Page - - - 161 

The Dayton Flood - - - - 163 

Thank You - - - - 166 

The Issue Of The Day - - - 169 

Maude Muller On The Titanic - - 170 

The Picnic - - - - 173 

Back From The Picnic - - - 174 

The Aspiring Woman . _ > 176 

Teddy And Bill At The Convention - 178 

It's Biddy I Love You - - - 179 

The Menagerie - - - 181 

The Golden Crown - - - 183 

How Jesse James Entered Heaven— Nit - 185 

Hot Time - - - - 188 




DEDICATORY POEM. 

Y dear little book, I dedicate you 
To all the purity my soul ever knew 
From the infant stage to the present time: 
I send you forth on a mission sublime. 



Go forth, little book, you're as pure as snow, 
And scatter glad tidings wherever you go; 
Wherever you go, there are good and bad. 
But when you stop make some soul glad. 



And now little book, I bid you go 
To lowliest hovels, dark with want and woe. 
On the rich man's table find a place; 
Receive my blessing and travel in peace. 



May you go through forest and glade 
And predominate most in the thickest shade. 
And always disperse the gathering gloom, 
Bring peace and happiness in every room. 



11 



I hope you'll travel many a mile 

And live to make unborn generations smile. 

And keep your name as pure as snow, 

My dear little book wherever you go. , .^x^. 



And now little book, we all covet you 

The praises that are given, are all your due. 

And may you bear good fruit to me 

And bring an abundance like the axle tree. 



Yes, go forth little book, it's not the writer's intent 
That you should ever on mischief be bent, 
That's why I call on the Lord above 
To filter your soul with the purest love. 



12 




THE ILL FATED TITANIC. 

N the fourteenth of April, nineteen twelve, 
When the world was fast asleep, 
Marconi's operator sent this message 
Across the raging deep. 



'Have struck an iceburg, rush aid" he said 

"For badly damaged we are" 
Titanic is our name. 

And we belong to the White Star. 



Hurry! hurry! were the words 

That came flashing through the air, 

And Captain Smith was on the bridge 
Giving orders everywhere. 



They worked the pumps as hard as they could 

To keep the ship afloat, 
When through the megaphone 

Came these words, "Man the life boats." 



18 



And the brave little operator sighed, 
As he flashed out the terrible call 

For he realized how they must die, 
And there were not enough boats for all. 



The rules of the sea must be obeyed, 
So 'twas women and children first; 

But of all sad things that I ever heard 
Their cries were the very worst. 



The rich and the poor stood side by side. 
There were husband, lover and bride; 

They were returning from their wedding tour, 
To where their parents reside. 



Colonel Astor kissed his beautiful bride. 
As he pressed her to his side, 

"I'll meet you in New York, dear," 
Then he crossed "The Great Divide." 



14 



The peasant Nadji stood by the rail, 
As he bade his dear wife good bye; 

Said he, "Perhaps we ne'er meet again 
But Maria, maybe you tell de chile how I die. 



Out of over two thousand in that boat 
Not one thousand did survive, 

But the millionaire and peasant widows, 
Were saved and kept alive. 



The Titanic was a beautiful boat, 
But was only made for show. 

She cost a lot of money. 

But her speed was not so slow. 



But the only ship that will not sink. 
When she goes upon the rocks. 

Is named True Religion 
And she'll bring you safe to dock. 



15 



We must not overlook our heroes — 
Captain Rostrom first of all, 

Who changed the course of his ship 
To respond to the S. O. S. call. 



How different from the Californian, 
When only nineteen miles away 

And saw their distress signals, 
Oh! what man could say them nay. 



But did you ever stop and think, 
That since the primeval fall 

So many are on the brink, 
And reject the Master's call. 



When you are tossed about on life's billows. 
And sight the rescue ship from afar, 

Remember that it is Jehovah, 
That was your guiding star. 



16 



Then steer straight for His protection 
And you will have done your best, 

And He will land you safely in harbor, 
In that beautiful Haven of Rest. 



Amongst the crowd on the topmost deck. 
When she took her fatal plunge, 

Was Archie Butt, the President's aid, 
Who went down to a watery grave. 



And he lifted his hat in a fond salute 
As he bade Miss Young good bye. 

And a beautiful smile was on his lips, 
P^'or he was not afraid to die. 



Frank D. Millet, the noted artist. 

Was the head of the Academy of Rome, 

We will leave him with the Great Sculptor, God, 
In the place called, "Home, Sweet Home." 



And Chas. M. Hayes of the Grand Trunk road, 
Through whom all orders were given, 

At last answered old Neptune's call, 
And went home to God in Heaven, 



There were H. J. Allison, daughter and wife, 

All met the same sad fate; 
And placed in boats to save their lives 

Were Nurse Andrews and boy babe. 



And Isidore Strauss, the millionaire, 

With his bride of long ago 
Was faithful in death as she was in life, 

Because she loved him so. 



He folded her within his arms. 
He clasped her to his heart 

And humbly prayed to God above. 
Then we shall never part. 



18 



Then pillowed on her bosom pure, 
They drew their latest breath, 

And their love was welded tighter 
By the grim Archpriest Death. 



God pity the ones in the steerage 

But we will meet on life's other side. 

For we will all be equal in heaven 
Where love is the strong man's pride. 



There were Roebling and Thayer, so we are told, 
Worth their millions in the Goddess called gold, 

God pity their loved ones who saw them die. 

The whole world asks you with tear dimmed eyes. 



With the salt sea frozen on his breast. 
And the salt tear in his eye, 

Ben Guggenheim was with the rest, 
Of those who had to die. 



19 



Don't look for him amongst the living- 
God has a better plan; 

He's gone up yonder to abide 
In a house not built with hands. 



Jacques Futrell, noted writer of fiction, 
Has made his peace with God; 

He heard the Still Small Voice calling 
"I love the pass under the rod." 



And poor Jack Phillips stuck to his key 
With water all around him up to his knees, 

He has passed beyond to the great unknown, 
Through the dark valley he went not alone. 



And Wm. T. Stead we will meet again 
In the "Final Review of Reviews;" 

For we know that he will be there 
To edit the Heavenly News. 



20 



And Henry B, Harris, the theatrical man, 
Has taken the highest degree; 

How vastly different than mortal plans 
When he played in the "Third Degree." 



And Mrs, Geo. Widener, I'm sorry to say, 
Lost all her pearls in a different way. 

She would lose them all, aye more if she could, 
To have her George back, so noble and good. 



But her loss is nothing compared with his gain, 
No matter what, be it riches or fame, 

Let us all tell it once, twice, yea tell it thrice 
For he has found the "Pearl of Great Price." 



And Lady Duff Gordon, the society belle. 

Whom every one loved so well. 
Was saved with her husband 

And now comes back, the great disaster to tell. 



21 



And Mrs. Carter was also lucky 
With her husband by her side; 

But they'll ne'er forget their companions. 
Or the night on which they died. 



And Mr. Ismay was only doing 
What the public demanded of him. 

Now a reinforcement of Marine laws, 
Would be less a crime and a sin. 



But God will not hold him guilty 
For obeying the world's demands, 

And his heart is well nigh breaking 
For he is every inch a man. 



When we step across the gang plank, 
Upon the other side of life, 

I hope there'll be no dissensions 
For there will be no strife. 



22 



As long as you like, hold the inquiry 

But do not wield the rod; 
For we must all stand together 

At the judgment seat of God. 



Beg pardon for what I've written 
When you read these simple lines, 

And remember, "Speed Madness" 
Is only "The signs of the times." 



If you have a clear passport to Heaven 
You will not shake dice with Death. 

You can meet St. Peter face to face, 
When you draw your latest breath. 



The Band boys played the sweetest music 
And all praise to them be given; 

But the angels played on Golden Harps 

When they recorded their souls in Heaven. 



23 



Lord Pierrie, the designer, 

Threw deck chairs to the crowd, 

And we will bless him always 
Though the ocean is his shroud. 



We will meet him up in Heaven 
And clasp him by the hand, 

And the boys of the Titanic 
Will greet him with the band. 



Now there was once a contractor 

Who figured on a job; 
But the one who figured on these souls 

Was the great architect God. 



All praise to the Macky Bennett 
And her noble gallant crew, 

And God bless Vincent Astor 

Who financed her journey through. 



And now we are silently waiting 
For that sable covered boat, 

To meet the forms of our loved ones 
Whom old Neptune kept afloat. 



There are many more of prominence 
And those who are worthy of renown 

But Neptune (God of the Ocean) 
In the vortex took them down. 



Forever and forever we will hear 

Their awful cries, 
Until we near the "River Jordan" 

And pass over the "Bridge of Sighs. 



Oh! beautiful Madeline pale and fair, 

By the sea no longer alone. 
For his face lies at the Astor there. 

With his features like chiseled stone, 
And the sea weed was taken from his hair. 

Those beautiful locks, like your own. 



(Fable truer than fiction.) 

Sell your story for four figures 
And you'll be a richer man. 

Pile up all the oceans mammon, 
Get the gold were'er you can. 




THE ASTOR BABY. 

Y darling little millionaire, 

What would poor papa give 
To clasp his baby to his heart, 
And with dear Mamma live? 



You are my little namesake, 
My treasure and my love, 

And papa guards his baby. 
From the mansion up above. 



Although you never saw me. 

You will feel my presence near, 

And I'll be often with you. 
So darling do not fear. 



You are my bud of promise. 

Just bursting into bloom, 
Sent to gladden dear Mamma's heart 

And dispell the gathering gloom. 



26 



You're only a little blossom, 

Just like the golden rod; 
May you be an upright man, 

And consecrate your soul to God. 



This life is like the ocean. 

Across the land we love; 
When you set sail upon it 

May you anchor with God above. 




MAMMA'S GOT A BABY. 

AMMA'S got a little baby, 
Mamma's got a love, 
God sent Mamma's little baby 
From the skies above. 



Lent it to my Mamma, 
For just a little while. 

Gave it eyes to see out of 
And a mouth to smile. 



Gave it a little dimple 
Right upon its chin. 

And two little rosebud lips, 
To smuggle kisses in. 



We will love it always. 
As long as life shall last, 

And give it back to Jesus, 

When its days on earth are past. 



28 




NEYER, 

EVER speak of your success 

When you're living in a flat, 
For the people on the other side 
Will envy you all of that. 



So never tell your business 
Or show the new things you got, 

For the other fellow wouldn't look 
If you're living in a block. 



They will make excuses 

And say they haven't time to look- 
Although for lack of knowledge 

They could never write a book. 



You'll be the topic of conversation 
When they meet to discuss affairs; 

But when you're weighed in the balance 
May you not be found wanting there? 




MY NEIGHBOR'S BABY. 

HE rain beats upon the window 
And a storm is raging wild, 
And a mother clasps unto her heart 
The form of an infant child. 



She is starting for the church, 
For this is baptismal day, 

She has asked our Heavenly Father 
To hold the storm at bay. 



At last the service is over 
And the little one lies at rest, 

And not one trouble rolls 
Across its peaceful breast. 



It's sleeping in its basket, 
Mamma's precious little dove. 

But it has just awakened 
To coo in Mamma's love. 



30 



MY GIFT. 




WANT to tell the world 

Of the gift that God has given; 
And when I die, I want Him 
To take my soul to Heaven. 



He gave His life for us 

So we've a great big debt to pay; 
We can do it on the installment plan, 

A little every day. 



He made it so easy for us 
For He knew what was best, 

When He said, "Come unto me 
And I will give you rest." 



Then open your heart and receive Him, 
Let His love and sunshine in; 

When you are strongly tempted 
He will wash away your sin. 



31 



FOR THE ARMY. 




ET'S be a Soldier of the Cross- 
Stand up and be mustered in — 
Cut loose the bondage of your soul, 
And free yourself from sin. 



Then you may wear the crown 
And eat with a golden spoon, 

In that place of great renown 
By the light of the silvery moon. 



32 




PROGRESSION. 

HEN the soul has left the body 
And you've nothing left to fear, 
You'll gather up the tread of life, 
Just where you left it here. 



So be careful in your weaving 
And do not drop a stitch, 

And do not drop the shuttle, 

Then you will have struck it rich. 



It may be quite a struggle 
But you'll conquer in the end. 

With Jehovah for your master. 
And Jesus for your friend. 



You'll thank the Heavenly Spirit 
For what He's done for you. 

And however dark the night. 
He'll surely see you through. 



33 



BABY'S SPIRIT. 

WILL love you always, 

And sometime I will come 
And build right up in front of you, 



For I'm your baby one. 



I will make you know me, 
For I've done it oft before; 

I'll climb upon your knee, 
As I did in days of yore. 



For you're my darling papa 
And I'll climb upon your lap; 

I'll put my arms around your neck, 
And then we'll take our nap. 



I'll tell you 'bout my Mamma, 
I've seen her many times, 

She understands it all now 

Since she pulled down the blinds. 



34 




ONE OF THE ELEVEN. 

ILL there be any kitties in Heaven? 
Any little round fuzzy balls, 
I want one out of every eleven, 
To answer to my call. 



Out of all the felines on earth 
It seems a great big shame. 

If out of the big eleven 
Mine couldn't answer to his name. 



He's caught many a little mouse 
But he never caught a rat; 

He never ate them up. 

For he wasn't that kind of a cat. 



My kittie's name is Noble, 

And I know he'll stand the test. 

And I'll not be lonesome in Heaven, 
If he's numbered with the rest. 



35 



THE HUSBAND OF YOUR YOUTH. 



N the evening of your lifetime, 

When your sun is sinking low, 
And your husband is your only support, 
And you ain't got long to go. 



May you look up in his honest face, 
And meet him with a smile. 

And say unto each other — 

"I've been true dear all the while.' 



You will love each other better 
With the seal of love made fast; 

If you're not each other's debtor. 
When you hear the trumpet blast. 



He will be your Enoch Arden, 
And come back to claim his own. 

And never more be parted 

When you sit around the throne. 



36 




NEVER MEDDLE. 

EVER meddle with other folks' business, 
It won't give yourself a boost; 
Remember, the old woman's chickens 
Are the ones that came home to roost. 



So let your neighbor alone 

If you would keep out of a muss; 

And do not carry a stone, 
It's apt to end in a fuss. 



She'll start in to tell you some news, 
But before she has left your house 

Those who have escaped her are few, 
She's as sly as a cat or a mouse. 



She is always alluding to him, 
Or maybe, perhaps, it is her; 

But before she leaves you, I ween 
They will both come in for a slur. 




THE BIG INSITRAIVCE MA^. 

AVE you ever met our agent? 
He's the big insurance man, 
He'll insure you against the storms of life, 
And it's on the safest plan. 



He'll insure you against fire, 
So that you will never burn, 

And build you a house to live in, 
If you'll come to him in turn. 



The house will be a mansion, 
And the bricks of solid gold. 

And He will be your Master, 
'Tis Jesus Christ of old. 



Your father and your mother, 
Your husband and your wife, 

And all the little children 
Can live in it for life. 



Then give Him your application, 
It will not cost a cent. 

And let Him send a policy, 

That's better than paying rent. 

38 



DO\'T TELL. 




O not tell what I told you, 

For it would never be right, 
And the other fellow would think 
You are not very bright. 



But if you should impart it, 
Just ask him not to tell — 

For he cannot keep a secret 
You know that very well. 



Do not ask the tattler in. 

But show him the way to get out; 

You'll show him the hole the carpenter made, 
If you know what you're about. 



39 




MABRIAGE A LOTTERY. 

HAT marriage is a lottery, 
An ancient proverb said; 
I'd rather give five hundred 
Than with that girl be wed. 



But after living together, 

For more than a score of years, 
I've come to the conclusion 

To lay aside my fears. 



I remember the day we were married, 
And she stood by my manly side. 

And I love her more today 

Than when she became my bride. 



We've each been sorely tempted, 
And we've each been sorely tried; 

But life would have been a vacant lot 
Had one or the other died. 



40 




THE MOTHER OF A DRUNKARD. 

KNOW my boy is a drunkard, 
And I know my boy is wild, 
But did you ever know a mother 
To go back on her wayward child? 



He may be the very worst drunkard, 
But the mother love is the same 

As it was so many years ago 
When the little cherub came. 



Now the love that he brought with him, 
Do you think could ever grow less? 

His mother loves him just the same 
As when she clasped him to her breast. 



She has sent more prayers to Heaven 
Than any one ever knows, 

To save him from a drunkard's grave 
And going down below. 



41 



And God will answer her prayers — 

For we know that he is good; 
Oh! who could resist that mother's prayers, 

He wouldn't if he could. 



You will conquer in the long run 
So do not have any fears, 

Your boy will live to curse the rum 
That brought his mother to tears. 



God has made us a promise, 
So please don't ever give up; 

You know that in that Book it says, 
"Let from me pass this cup." 



Then sign the pledge for mother. 

It's up to you my boy. 
For now your mother's growing old, 

'Twould fill her heart with joy. 



42 




RIGHT MEANS RIGHT. 

T'S the hardest thing I know 
To conquer a little child, 
You must give him seeds of love to sow 
If you would make him sweet and mild. 



It's like the big Napoleon 

At the battle of Waterloo, 
The child will never know defeat, 

Until he's conquered through and through. 



Teach it to tell the truth- 
It will keep it from growing wild; 

"How sharper than a serpent's tooth 
'Tis to have a thankless child." 



The whole world will love him. 
When you've taught him to do right. 

And he'll thank our heavenly Father- 
For right means right. 



43 




LITTLE TOLDIE. 

ITTLE Toldie was our baby, 

But her mamma made her mind, 
For she loved our little Toldie 
And was always good and kind. 



Little Toldie was good and cheerful 

All the livelong day. 
But little Toldie, like other babies. 

Was sure to want her way. 



Little Toldie lived with Grandma 

Once for quite awhile. 
Until her mamma came and took her. 

Then little Toldie did not smile. 



'I'll dest go home to papa's house' 
Was what little Toldie said, 

'For I don't love my mamma 
And I wish that I were dead." 



44 



Now you may go to papa's house- 
On your head I'll put your hood — 

And you stay to papa's house 
Until you can be good. 



Mamma put Toldie out the door 
But stood with listening ear, 

Because the night was dreadful dark, 
And our Toldie was full of fear. 



"I'm all alone and I'm so cold" 
Was what she heard the baby say. 

Since that night she's minded mamma 
And never tried to have her way. 



Little Toldie's a grown up lady 
And married so they say, 

And got a little Toldie baby 
That is apt to want its way. 



45 



Some day she will go to God's house, 

Way up in the sky, 
And leave her little Toldie baby 

On this cold earth to cry. 



Then when she has reached her zenith 
Up there in the Saviour's fold. 

She'll never more have cause to say, 
"I'm all alone, and I'm so cold." 



When the goodbye's are obliterated, 
And we hear the angels sing, 

We will meet our little Toldie, 
In the shelter of His wing. 



46 




MEDITATIONS. 

E asked her of what she was thinking 
With her head bowed down and mild, 
"Oh! I was dest meditating" 
Were the words of this wondrous child. 



And now she's grown up a lady 

And she is wondrous fair; 
But her thoughts drift back to childhood 

And she sits and meditates there. 



Oh! the sweet meditations of childhood, 
When their thoughts are almost divine, 

And now that I am grown older, 

I wish that their thoughts were mine. 



That I might be pure as the lily. 
So that of me it might be said- 

"A little child shall lead us" 
And with His lambs be fed. 



47 




A POEM WITHOUT A SUBJECT. 

'VE been asked to write a poem 

And I know not which way to turn 
For I was left without a subject, 
So please my efforts do not spurn. 



I have so little knowledge, 
But I'll try to do my best; 

But a poem without a subject 
Will put me to the test. 



As I started without a subject, 
I hardly know where to begin, 

I'll end without a subject, 
And it won't be any sin. 



48 




C. V. T. RICHESON, OR THE DOOMED PASTOR. 

(Composed and written by Ida Putnam Tubbs on 
the death of Rev. C. V. T. Richeson, who was elec- 
trocuted at Charleston, Mass., May 21, 1912, for the 
murder of Avis Linnell so that he might be free to 
marry the millionaire daughter, Violet Edmands. 
The last verse showing how truly penitent he was.) 

ENGEANCE is mine" saith the Lord 
"And I will repay," 
Do not send him into darkness 
At the breaking of the day. 



If you do, you will regret it 

Many, many times, 
For as often did he repent it. 

But could not undo the crime. 



Better shut him up forever 

In a prison out of sight. 
Just remember the old adage 

"T>vo wrongs never made a right. 



When his soul has left his body 
And his spirit taken flight, 

You will see it coming back to you 
In the middle of the night. 



49 



I'll come back and help my brothers 
So that blood won't be their price, 

May it be a warning to others 
For a poor girl's sacrifice. 



When I meet my Avis' spirit 
And stand with it face to face, 

Then I'll ask to be forgiven 

And come back and rest in peace. 



Until then, Thou, O great Jehovah, 
Don't forsake my poor lost soul; 

I, a minister of your gospel, 
Of my manhood lost control. 



I would rather do your penance. 
And you be my guiding star. 

Than to be a man of millions. 
With my soul below its par. 



50 



TO A FATHER. 




HEN your boy comes back in penance, 
With his head bowed down and mild, 
Did you ever know a mother 
To forsake her wayward child? 



Then take him back to old Virginia, 
Bury him on the family lot, 

And the world will like you better 
When your boy is long forgot. 



51 




THE OLD MUSICIAN. 

NE day he sat in the corner, 

And strummed on an old guitar, 
And the sounds floated o'er the city, 
Until it reached the Gates ajar. 



And Jesus looked down from above, 
As He did long years ago, 

And blessed the old musician 

Whose hair was as white as snow. 



Oh sweet are the days that are gone. 
But sweeter are those by far, 

When we sit in our Heavenly corner 
And strum on the old guitar. 



52 




DON'T CRY. 

NE day the writer got nervous 
And it made her cry, 
And it touched our little Andrew 
Then he heaved a great big sigh. 



"Oh don't cry; I will buy you sumptin" 
Was what the sweet boy said, 

And it touched a heart string 
That will vibrate when I'm dead. 



May we all, like little Andrew, 

Be careful what we say. 
Lest when we have touched the string 

The sound will die away. 



Give good thoughts, and speak good words 

All through life my boy. 
So the echo will come back, 

And fill each heart with joy. 



53 




LITTLE HAZEL. 

OOR little Hazel, if you treat her right, 
Is a good little girl from morning 'till night; 
But woe to the one that crosses her path, 
Then it doesn't take long to develop her wrath. 



She is as good as the rest and I'm sure you'll find, 
If you treat her right, she'll always be kind. 
There is only one thing I would criticise well. 
It's praise her good deeds and her faults do not tell. 



Remember the Saviour gave his decree 

When he said, "Let the little ones come unto me; 

And this little girl He never forgot, 

"Let her come" He said, "I forbid her not." 



And now if the grown people will only be 
As good as the children that come unto me, 
I will bless them every day of the seven 
For of such is the Kingdom of Heaven. 



54 




THE GREED FOR GOLD. 

'VE wished for gold with every breath, 
I've wished it o'er and o'er; 
But now it's Heaven after death, 
What could I wish for more? 



Then stand up by my Maker's side. 
And look him in the face, 

And know that however poor I am 
I've found a resting place. 



A place to lay my tired head, 
And dry my tear-stained eye; 

For death is a thing we all must meet 
And gold can never buy. 



55 




SWEET MEMORIES. 

H sweet reminiscence of childhood, 
When they steal on you unaware, 
It's then that I reverence my mother, 
And the locks of her silvery hair. 



Then trust and obey your mother, 
For she has always been just. 

The time will come and you know it — 
"The young may die, but the old must.' 



And sweeter will be the parting 

When the time of death draws near; 

If you've always been good to your mother 
You'll have nothing left to fear. 



Yes, dear are my recollections- 
I had father and mother then- 

Now doubly dear is my mother 
For she is my truest friend. 



56 




THE DIAMOND FIELDS ABOVE. 

UR parents have gone where they'll never 
come back, 
And we've only each other to love; 
But some day we'll meet them up yonder, 
In the diamond fields above. 



The price that is put upon your life 

You will surely be able to meet, 
When your soul has gone to the diamond fields. 

And your body is down six feet. 



The price is not so very high 

On this, is the way to feel. 
Then why on earth should I fear to die? 

And go to the diamond fields. 



Oh far above rubies is that precious stone, 
When we've only His love to yield; 

How gladly we'll give up our earthly home 
When we reach the Diamond fields. 



57 



THE NIAGARA FALLS DISASTER. 

^^SIIh! that awful triple tragedy 

^jj^r^ Will ne'er forgotten be, 

^fe^l On the fourth of February nineteen twelve, 

On Niagara's treacherous sea. 



The winter visitors were exploring 
With no thought of fear in mind, 

They walked out upon the ice bridge, 
And left the land behind. 



Wm. Lablond heard the ice agrinding. 

And ran at topmost speed; 
Giving warning for others to follow — 

Oh! what a heroic deed. 



Oh! self-sacriflcing Eldridge Stanton- 
When he stood by his faithful wife- 
He could not desert her in death, 
For he loved her so well in life. 



58 



"I can't go on, let us die here." 
She uttered, and then she fell; 

And his call for assistance 

Was only sounding their death knell. 



Young Peacock of Cleveland, a stranger to both, 
Stands like Damon and Pythias of old; 

By his acts of kindness and love 
Has raised a monument to his soul. 



The fire headquarters of both countries 

Sent in a general alarm; 
They were stationed at the steel Arch 

And Cantilever, to keep these people from harm. 



They lowered a line from the bridge 
While the spectators held their breath: 

But Jesus "Threw out the life line" 
And they spanned the chasm — death. 



He raised the woman and kissed her. 
And she made the sign of the cross. 

And they knelt and prayed together— 
For no one up there is lost. 

59 




FIRE ABOARD SHIP. 

HE burning of the Naomi 

Was a very spectacular sight 
With the flames a leaping skyward, 
In the darkness of the night. 



It was way back in nineteen-seven 
On the twenty-first day of May; 

But it happened in the night time, 
That's what the people say. 



'Twas foretold in a dream the night before — 

Like Jacob's dream of old — 
When the Lord stood at the top of the ladder 

And gathered the sheep in His fold. 



He awakened from his sleep and was frightened 
Because the Lord had spoken to him; 

Then related his dream to a passenger 
Who only laughed at him. 



GO 



But, with the first alarm of fire, 

It came back with full force — 
And I thought of the dream of that stranger 

And realized the truth for the first. 



Now we will step back to Jacob, 

And see what he promised the Lord; 

"If He would only take care of him 
He would obey Him," was Jacob's word. 



Captain Traill called to Whelan (the wheelman) 
And gave orders to stay at his post 

And head for the nearest approaching light. 
That no one on board might be lost. 



Tom Whelan— like "John Maynard," 
Couldn't see two feet ahead — 

Stood by the wheel till the Kerr arrived; 
But the boys in the hold were dead. 



61 



We lighted our handkerchiefs and waved them 
In the wild hope that help would be sent. 

Suddenly in the distance a light appeared! 
Yes, we knew what it meant. 



Oh! those welcome words that rang out clear 

In the middle of the night — 
"We see you, we'll save you," 

Was shouted with all their might. 



And a cheer went up from the maddened throng 

At the sweet sound of that voice. 
How little they thought, when they started out, 

That fatal would be their voyage. 



They were on their knees in a moment, 
And were shedding tears of joy; 

For the thought of home and mother 
Was an overflow of joy. 



It's like the call of the Master 
To the sinner that's almost lost; 

He'll see you and He'll save you 
No matter what the cost. 



There were seven members of the Hake family 

That boarded the doomed ship, 
Bound for a brilliant wedding, 

But they reached there never a bit. 



Their diamonds and jewelry were all lost, 
But they were thankful to escape from death. 

With flames so hot, and smoke so dense, 
It almost took their breath. 



Especially sad were the Hanley sisters. 
Whose sad mission of death 

Was to bury the form of their father. 
Who had drawn his latest breath. 



63 



As the Kansas came up the river, 

With her flag at half mast, 
It told the story of four boys in the castle 

And all signs of life was past. 



There were more from our valley city. 

And others from towns all around, 
Who were thankful when they reached Grand Haven, 

And stood upon the ground. 



M 




GENERATIONS. 

IME is fleeting fast, 

We're passing down the line, 
One thing that never waits 
Is surely the hands of time. 



We're going at a rapid pace; 

Then try and live it well. 
How soon we'll meet Him face to face, 

There are none of us can tell. 



The soul is easy to sell 
When you come to die. 

Live your life well 

Then Jesus will surely buy. 



When the angel of death is sent, 
And we know this is our last, 

May our life be well spent 
When this generation is past. 



65 



ADVICE or ONE PAL TO ANOTHER ON THE 
MAXIMUM. 

WAS given the maximum 
While only a youth, 
Yet it couldn't have been greater 
Had it been J. Wilkes Booth. 
Not one of my pals 

Would harken to my cry, 
But left me alone; 

Broken hearted, to die. 




My poor white-haired mother 

Stood by to the last — 
The Lord bless and protect her 

When it's over and past. 
I forgive Judge McDonald — 

For he had no bad intent — 
Although he gave the maximum 

I think the minimum was meant. 



66 



Then shun bad company 

And leave liquor alone, 
Or you'll receive the maximum 

Before you're a man grown. 
I'll work for a pardon 

As long as life shall last; 
May He blot my transgressions, 

So I'll not be outcast. 



Don't criticise the lawyer 

Whatever you do. 
Or blame it on the judge 

When it's really up to you. 
If you happen to be lucky 

In life's little span. 
Shun evil companions. 

Brace up, and be a man. 

(Tune of Old Oaken Bucket.) 



67 




COMMENCEMENT DAY. 

HIS is commencement day 

For the country of our choice. 
The clouds were parted back 
So the angels could rejoice. 



The rain came down in torrents — 

Oh what a joyful birth 
When it struck the field of knowledge 

And fell on the grand old earth. 



Just four short years since I came here, 

A little neglected girl, 
Life was sweet but held no fear, 

With my future all on a whirl. 



I left my sisters and brothers. 
And went with ladies of the town 

To the place I now call home. 

Where I'm happy and have no frown. 



68 



I've attended school on the corner 
That I might knowledge learn, 

So that in the future 

The efforts you could discern. 



On the stepping stone of knowledge 

We are standing today; 
Our teacher has blazed the trail, 

But Jesus will pave the way. 



And now, today, when I graduate 
And look on my teacher's face, 

I feel I shall love her always 
And her memory ne'er efface. 



When the alarm for us is given, 
We will meet you one and all 

In the high school in Heaven 
At the sound of the recall. 



And when our tasks are finished, 

And we have said Amen, 
May we hear those joyful words — 

"Peace on earth, good will toward man. 

69 




A HANDKERCHIEF WAVED IN FUN. 

NCE a little country lassie, 
In the days of long ago, 
Met a little country laddie, 
Whom she did call her beau. 



Then they made their mud pies. 
And kept their secret well, 

And between their sighs and cries, 
They loved each other well. 



Said the laddie to the lassie, 

"Time is fleeting fast;" 
Said the lassie to the laddie 

"Wonder if our love will last?' 



Grown to man and maidenhood, 
Now we see them stand 

As they did when children — 
He holding lassie's hand. 



70 



Talking of their future 
And going out to work, 

Neither lad or lassie 

Were ever known to shirk. 



Then upon agreement 
A farmer lad was he, 

And she sought the kitchen 
By laddie's side to be. 



At daylight on a Monday morn. 
You'd find her in the field 

A dropping corn for laddie, 

And the crop was sure to yield. 



At the sound of the dinner horn. 
When the day was over, 

You could see them hand in hand 
Coming through the clover. 



Then they went a fishing 
Down by the babbling brook, 

And laddie was a wishing 
For a little cozy nook. 



In which to string a hammock 
That they might sit and rest, 

Where soon their young devotion 
We will put to a test. 



He took her face and held it, 
And then her lips he pressed. 

And the question that he asked her 
Can easily be guessed. 



For laddie loved her fondly. 
And lassie loved him well, 

And they plighted their troth together 
By the old stone well. 



72 



May he always love his lassie 
The same as he does today, 

And may she love her laddie 
With roses to pave the way. 



They're standing at the altar 
And the knot has just been tied; 

May they live to bless the day 
That he made her laddie's bride. 



Choose well your occupation 
When you're starting out in life, 

And remember little laddie, 
There is always lots of strife. 



If you go upon the railroad, 
Which you say you surely must. 

In time of great disaster 
Remember God is just. 



73 



Bear in mind my little laddie, 
When you're gliding o'er the track, 

That lassie's prayers are with you, 
And don't let your courage slack. 



Now he's gone and left her, 

The road for him holds no fear; 

He's flying o'er the commons. 
Such is the life of an engineer. 



Now she's walking down the meadow 

Through the shady lane, 
And she wonders will her laddie 

E'er come back again. 



He sees a face in a window. 
As he's speeding o'er the track. 

She waves her handkerchief to him, 
And in turn he waves his back. 



74 



They met upon agreement 

When he reached the end of his run, 
Who would have said 'twas a life's mistake, 

Of a handkerchief waved in fun. 



He forgets the country lassie, 
This life is so new to him, 

Do you think the face in the window 
Could lure you on to sin? 



The little country lassie 
Pledged her oath for life, 

And she's as true today 

As when she became his wife. 



The little face in the window, 

I'm sure was only in fun; 
But when you wave your handkerchief 

Let it be when life is done. 



75 



Oh! laddie did you know it? 

Some one told your lassie girl, 
Told her you was unfaithful, 

And her brain is in a whirl. 



She was in a wild delirum, 
With fever at one hundred five, 

But doctor fought all night 
And pulled her through alive. 



When the morning dawned 

A storm was raging wild; 
The lightning flashed and struck the bridge, 

But woe for the lassie child. 



She knew his train was coming. 

So out of bed she crept; 
There was no one there that missed her, 

For they all so soundly slept. 



76 



And as she reached the bridge 
It fell with one loud crash 

Into the water below — 

Everything went to smash. 



No, there were some rafters 

That hung from the side above; 

She grabbed them and slid across — 
This for the lad she loved. 



Just as she dropped to the ground 
She heard the whistle shriek. 

She could not raise her head, 
She was so very weak. 



But she sent a message to heaven. 
That beats Marconi's boy — 

And the answer came back to earth 
And saved her laddie boy. 



77 



The driving rod on the engine 
Broke right square in two — 

And the engine came to a standstill, 
What more could our Saviour do? 



Then laddie inspected the engine, 
And just four feet ahead 

He found his lassie on the track. 
Unconscious, but not dead. 



He raised her in his arms and kissed her. 
And pledged new words of love. 

That he would quit the railroad, 
And work for the Master above. 



They're back on the farm in the country, 
And two children play 'round their door, 

A laddie and a lassie. 

What could they ask for more? 



78 



You can hear them in the morning 
Waft their notes on high, 

For they're always singing — 
"Coming through the rye." 



Time has changed, they're older grown 
But their love is just the same 

As when they made their mud pies. 
And wandered down the lane. 



79 




IN TIMES OF DISTRESS. 



On June 20th, 1912, the writer upon returning 
home from the Union station, having just accom- 
panied her niece there who was bound for Lowell, 
Michigan, met a young lady who very unfortunately 
had lost all of her money. 

The following poem was composed and dedicated 
to the stranger, whom she partly reimbursed, by Ida 
Putnam Tubbs: 



OU poor little darling that lost all your 
money, 
When I saw on your face the stamp vir- 
tue had set, 
I thought of my niece — I had just called her honey — 
And I knew from your face you were some moth- 
er's pet. 



I have thought of you often, in your hour of distress; 
Unprotected, alone, and without any redress. 
Could you but realize the aid was omnipotent 
That was sent to a child, on whose face was marked 
innocent. 



Purity's stamp on your face was unblemished by far. 
And upon your forehead was a glittering star; 
Which shone forth in its brightness, and its rays 

were so evident 
That your face was a picture no artist could paint. 

80 



That face was the face of a fairy queen; 
I have seen it often, but just in a dream, 
I have wondered often, by night and by day, 
If ever again it would come my way. 



If it does there is just one favor I'll ask. 
And you'll not find it a very hard task; 
I want your picture as you looked then. 
Taken and sent, and signed — a friend. 



I once took a degree and I knew what it meant. 
When by the commander a medal was sent; 
I found on its back, in letters of gold, 
A motto, 'twas good for the young and the old. 



You will find the last line the one that I mean 
Is the motto I send to this little queen — 
I'll try to live up to it, was the vow that I made. 
Be just, be merciful, be honorable and brave. 



81 




WILL YOU BE TRUE WHEN YOU ARE MINE? 

OU have been a bad girl through most of 
you life, 
But you'll more than make up in being my 
wife. 
I love you, 'tis true, but what can I say 
If the love for another come into my way. 
I'll be angry and mad, and scratch out your eyes, 
And all of your goodness I'll surely despise. 



I'll buy you a home and furnish it right 

If you will be true from morning 'till night. 

Oh! give me your promise, what more can there be, 

I'll pay your bill, and then you'll be free; 

I'll take the children and dress them up fine. 

And because they are yours, then they will be mine. 



Your mother may come and share our lot, 

I always have liked her, she'll not be forgot. 

You may have money at your command 

If you'll only be true when you give me your hand. 

Will you be true? Was it yes that I heard? 

I know that you will if you give me your word. 

82 



The answer she gave him was noble and brave — 

I will be true till I'm laid in my grave 

If you will promise the same to me, 

I know that forever happy we'll be — 

You have promised me everything lovely and fine, 

But will you be true when you are mine? 



88 




THE YELLOW ROSE. 

NCE there was a little lady 

And I'm sure she meant all right. 
If it was to help her neighbors, 
She would work with all her might. 



But somehow they grew jealous of her, 
And the knowledge she could impart. 

So they gave her a yellow rose — 
And the thorn did pierce her heart. 



One thing that I could tell you, 
And it will surely come to pass; 

They will always be jealous of you, 
If they are not your class. 



Be careful in your selection. 
When you give the rose away, 

And do not pluck the yellow rose, 
For the thorns are there to stay. 



84 



When they realized what they'd done, 
Then they hung them on her gate. 

She left them there and they were stung, 
For they were not her class or mate. 



She paid no attention to them 

But held aloft her head. 
And went about her business, 

Until one day they found her dead. 



The doctor called it heart failure; 

And the death angel said she smiled 
And Jesus welcomed her home. 

Through the gates of the undefiled. 



Then they called a little meeting. 
These ones that had been unkind, 

And dropped a tear upon the bier 
Of her whom they left behind. 



85 



Then they heaped a garland of roses 
About that woman's door; 

But the rose that had the thorn in 
Left its sting forevermore. 



There are roses that mean I love you; 

Make your bouquets out of those. 
If you do not like the jealous ones, 

Do not pick the yellow rose. 



86 




THE DOOMED THEATRE. 

N Wednesday afternoon in nineteen hundred 
three, 
The masses had laid aside their cares 
To attend the matinee, 

For it was the holiday season, and all nature seem- 
ed fair. 



Mr. Bluebeard was the attraction, 
And was advertised broadcast, 

"Don't fail to have the children see"- 
We want them first and last. 



Our building is a fireproof structure, 
With exits on every hand; 

Five men in city uniform 
In aisles at your command. 



The city that had once been swept by flames 

Seemed to be the unlucky one; 
For it held the Iroquois Theater Building 

In which a fire began. 

87 



While the play had reached its zenith, 
And the star was at his height, 

Way up amongst the draperies 
Glared forth a deadly light. 



Then the transformation scene was on- 
May they live to forget the sight — 

That transformed the beautiful theatre 
Into such a sorrowful plight. 



The scene beggars description — 

It was worse than I ever saw; 
Worse than Bluebeard's chambers of horrors, 

And that is against the law. 



Worse than Dante's visions of Inferno 

For 'twas no vision then; 
A stern reality awaited them, 

Worse than a slaughter pen. 



Terror bound stood the audience 

As they realized the peril at hand, 

And Eddie Foy rushed to the front of the stage 
And calmness was his command. 



Then they rushed for the many exits 
Only to find them battened down; 

The doors to the fire escape were the same 
And was ?iiet with a sickening frown. 



Then they tried to force an exit, 

But some demon seemed holding them back. 
And they fell in heaps by the big doors. 

And solidly they were packed. 



God bless the many heroes 
Who did their duty well, 

And also bless these victims 
That in the flames have fell. 



Public sympathy ran high, 
And tears came down in torrents; 

But we can only heave a sigh 

For our loved ones in their last moments. 



How many people are there today, 
Since the fire of seventy-two. 

Could tell the fate of the postoffice cat- 
They number perhaps a few. 



The victims of this holocaust. 

Could they speak, would tell you that 

How gladly they would have been to accept 
The fate of the postoffice cat. 



To those who did escape, 
And to those who went up higher, 

We'll cross ourselves and say our prayers 
For the ones in the theatre fire. 



90 



We will rear i: monument tall and grand, 

That will reach unto the sky; 
And "Safe in Heaven" will be the words engraved 

To be seen by the passers by. 



Let's look up with a smile 
And drive away that frown; 

And prepare to meet our Saviour 
Least the door be battened down. 



91 



SIN 

IN in its meagerest form 

Is but an uneducated good, 
And will never have the bad effect 
If it is rightly understood. 




The criminal may lay his plans 
And execute them well; 

And rather than be caught 
His very soul he'd sell. 



The good that lies within him 
Has never been brought out; 

It's been lying dormant all these years- 
It's sin we're talking about. 



You may cloak it with deception 

Until you think He's passed you by; 

But you'll not deceive the eye of God, 
No matter how you try. 



92 



Don't live in your debauchery 
Until the time has come to die, 

Expecting at the eleventh hour 
He'll waft your soul on high. 



He is your Heavenly Father 
And will never turn you down; 

But you'll not receive the valedictory 
Or even wear the crown. 



Unless you mend your crooked ways, 
And walk in the path that's straight, 

You'll never meet St. Peter's approval 
When you're standing at the gate. 



We're in an age of progression 
And 'twas from the very first: 

But ignorance of that very fact, 
I claim, is the very worst. 



93 



You must learn your A B C's 
And know how to read and write 

Before you enter the grammar school. 
Or you'll be in a sorrowful plight. 



If you're versed in ancient history 
And the laws of the spirit world, 

The Beacon light will shine out plain 
When your sails are all unfurled. 



Beware of the awful serpent 
That's lurking in the flowers: 

So let's be on the alert, 

For we know not the hour. 



Deception is an awful thing. 

For no matter how you try 
You'll not deceive the Maker, 

When the hour of death draws nigh. 



94 




THE BROKEN TOW. 

HE was only a little teacher 
In one of our city schools, 
She was never known to disobey 
Or break the golden rule. 



It's do to others as you would 
That they should do to you; 

Then no matter what will come about 
You'll never prove untrue. 



She had a flirty sweetheart — 
But she loved him with her life — 

He could not wait her motion, 
So he took another for his wife. 



She loved him true and dearly 
And he loved her in return; 

But the fire of a love outgrown 
Will make a true heart burn. 



95 



A little smile once in a while, 
A picture for a token, 

A little sigh for days gone by 
A little girl heartbroken. 



Another man woos the little teacher, 
With bank books well extended; 

A social crown and a house in town, 
And the teacher's heart is mended. 



He lived to repent his actions — 

And it was not so very long — 
He would have given all he hoped to possess 

For just one old time song. 



From lips of his former sweetheart: 
But then, that could never be. 

She was as pure as an Easter lily 
And could never figure three. 



96 



He thinks of the days that are gone, 
And he heaves a little sigh 

As he thinks of the days to come, 
With a tear drop in his eye. 



The one who needs your pity 

Is the wife with the broken heart; 

For the former sweetheart has his love, 
Though they're doomed to live apart. 



97 




THE CYCLONE. 

E'RE standing in the market place 
With everything to buy, 
And he is rich who has the goods 
When the storm has passed us by. 



A cyclone struck our city 

And the damage that was done 
Was mostly on the market, 

And they felt it every one. 



The farmers had driven from afar 
To meet the hucksters there, 

And also the commission man. 
And one young lady fair. 



The clouds were very threatening 
And everything was dry 

Until the cyclone burst upon us, 
In the twinkling of an eye. 



98 



The rain came down in torrents 

And the horses they ran wild. 
And the storm king shattered the window pane 

And frightened both man and child. 



It raised havoc with the ball park, 
And the grand stand went to smash 

And killed two of our huckster's horses 
As it fell with one loud crash. 



The one that has the goods to sell 
Will watch for the one to buy. 

So be sure you've made the right sale 
When the storms are raging high. 



99 



THE SUPREME MONARCH. 

HEN paltry wealth shall lose its power 
And we're judged by deeds alone, 
Then prison doors will be unlocked 



And the walls will claim their own. 



The judge that sits upon the bench, 
Awaiting to pass sentence on you. 

If we could only lift his mask. 
Perhaps he'd be there too. 



He's monarch of the court room, 
Whom the lawyers all obey. 

And when he gives his ruling 
There's nothing else to say. 



But when he sits in judgment 

Upon that final day, 
In front of our Supreme Monarch 

He'll have nothing left to say. 

100 




THE ANGELl S« 

HAT will you do when the Angelus rings, 
Will you stand and pray, or shout and 
sing 
Unto Him, my Maker, my Lord, my King 

I will stand and pray, when the Angelus rings. 



Will you lift your voice to God on high. 

And pray for us now and the hour when we die? 

Will you do all this to atone for sin, 

And pray each time when the Angelus rings? 



I will do all this, yea, and more; 

I will pray for sinners by the score. 
I will cross myself and reverently sing. 

Bend my knee and pray when the Angelus rings. 



I will stop my work no matter where — 
Be it out in the field in the open air; 

I will bow my head and chant a requiem hymn 
And do all this when the Angelus rings. 

101 




A PUFF FROM KNOWLEDGE. 

F I have the puff from knowledge 
And the masses pass me by, 
What care I for the snub of ignorance 
They can never soar or fly. 



For their brain is so transparent 
You can penetrate it with a glance; 

But they'll snub you in their ignorance 
If you give them half a chance. 



Bring from the caves of knowledge 
The jewels of the exploring mind, 

And send them to some college 
So they'll not be so far behind. 



102 




OLD ZANZIBAR. 

EE my little pickaninnie, 

What the angels sent to me; 
Guess they sent it down from heaven, 
For it's black as it can be. 



Guess they picked it off the tree — 
'Cause 'twas Christmas time — 

And the songs I heard them singing 
Seemed so like sublime. 



Sent me down a pickaninnie 
For my morning star, 

But He only loaned the iioney 
To me, Old Zanzibar. 



When He calls my pickaninnie 

With the grim sceptre in His hand, 

I will stand and face the angel. 
When he waves the golden wand. 



103 



Now I see Him drawing nearer, 
And I guess I'll hold him tight, 

See! He's coming through the winder 
Speeding on with all His might. 



What is that I heard Him saying? 

I will make your baby white, 
At that time when you are praying, 

I will chase away your fright. 



But I beg you, I implore you, 
Just to give my baby back. 

Out of all your shinning angels 
I would rather have him black. 



Give me back my pickaninnie 
What the angels gave to me. 

Can't you see my tears agathering 
I'm as lonesome as can be. 



104 



'Taint no sin to sit and cry 
When you feel like this; 

For a little baby's kisses 
Never comes amiss. 



All these years I'se been a plodding 
In the straight and narrow way. 

I ain't asked much of you dear Jesus, 
'Cause I ain't had much to say. 



But when you takes dat little baby 
Den you'se touched a tender chord, 

And I know you'se powerful mighty 
'Cause you said so in your word. 



Won't you give me back my baby — 
Its only for a little while? 

Please do give him, Mr. Jesus, 

And you'll make ole Mammy smile. 



105 



I remember once I was happy, 
Just as happy as I could be; 

'Twas the time when Mr. Lincoln 
Made this poor old Zanze free. 



But I recon dat happiness 

Wasn't calculated for such as me. 
Else you'd never take my baby 

In this bright land of the free. 



Just please let me keep dat baby 
And I'll be so awful brave, 

I'm just an old black nigger, 
But I'll be your faithful slave. 



If you'll only leave my baby, 
That you sent me from afar, 

Until you're ready to take me. 
Then I'll be your Zanzibar. 



106 



Yes, I'll leave it a little longer — 
It will please you so I know — 

For your eyes are growing dimmer 
And your fleece is white as snow. 



No one knew when Jesus called, 
For he came so still and soft. 

And Zanzibar took her pickaninnie 
And bore it up aloft. 



Whether standing at a distance 

Or gazing from afar, 
I see Zanzibar a smiling 

Through the gates ajar. 



My Zanzibar gained the mansion- 
It's not far up the road, 

And I'll never be a transient 
For I've a permanent abode. 



107 




MY CASTLE IS MY DOMAIN. 

HE husband and wife stood quarreling 
Over which one should rule. 
He had been bred in college 
Yet she was no one's fool. 



A man's house is his castle 
So he told his wife one day; 

But she raised her hand in self defense, 
And dared to say him nay. 



We will not war words or wrestle 
O'er the mansion of today. 

She is queen of her small castle — 
This is not what children play. 



Might as well stop your quarreling 
And from these arguments refrain, 

For you'll never conquer Willie 
For my castle is my domain. 



108 



Makes no difference which one rules, 
When you're in that house above, 

Nor how much you've been to school. 
Just remember "God is Love." 



Lift your voice and give Him praise 
For all the blessings you have had 

While you've lived in your small castle. 
And you're not so very bad. 



Don't forget that Christ is Master 
In that mansion where we aim. 

Keep this thought always before you, 
And you'll not exceed your domain. 



109 




SUMMERTIME VACATION. 

HE month of June dawned at last, 
And summer time is here. 
We'll spend our vacation on the farm 
With mother, wifey dear. 



We'll take the children right along 
For they also need a rest; 

Not thinking dear old mother 
With lots of work is blest. 



They ought to have turned the tables 
And let her come to town 

Instead of piling on the work. 
And b'^nding her shoulders down. 



They'll come in by the dozens. 
Yes, we count them by the score; 

Aunts and nieces and cousins, 
And one or two friends, or more. 

110 



And still that dear old mother 
Will meet them with a smile. 

They never think to do the work 
And let her rest a while. 



If they'd only take a few steps 
And try to mother save — 

But, no danger, they'll never work 
Themselves into an early grave. 



Now when next vacation comes 
Let's save our pennies up, 

And give them all to mother 
To keep her spirits up. 



And invite her into town, 
Insist on it that she comes, 

And take her where'er you go 
Before this life is done. 



Do for her as she did for you 

Is all that I would ask, 
And the Lord will bless you always 

When you've fulfilled your earthly task. 

Ill 




THE CODICIL. 

F you've made your last will and testament, 
And remembered one and all, 
You'd better add a codicil 
Before your final call. 

And give your soul to Jesus, 

And then ycu'll know you're safe, 
And you'll live in perfect harmony 

On the other side the grave. 

He's the one that's done the most for you 

So do not leave Him out; 
And don't forget the codicil, 

For 'twill make the angels shout. 

They'll gather all around you. 

And claim you for their own. 
You'll see a bright and shining spot 

Like a halo around the throne. 



For they're all so well and happy 
And there's no one ever ill, 

You'll receive your Father's blessing 
For that beautiful codicil. 



112 




A TRUE REBEKAH. 

F you are a true Rebekah 

And practice what you preach, 
You'll not neglect your mother 
When she's not beyond your reach. 



And remember, my dear sister, 
That the day will come to you 

That you'll call for mother's blessing 
If you could your life renew. 



You may not think it now, 

But the time will surely come, 

You'll repent those bitter actions 
As you have towards mother's son. 



Who was your truest friend 
In your sorest hour of need? 

Then don't forget your sister 

When you wore the mother's weed. 



113 



I remember well the night 
You came rapping at my door; 

Your heart was heavy laden, 

And I know your feet were sore. 



You had little baby with you, 
And your husband by your side. 

How well do I remember, 
When the little darling died. 



But don't feel bad, dear sister. 
For the time is surely known 

When we all must glean the harvest. 
And we'll reap as we have sown. 



Then dry your eyes, dear sister. 
It's only for a little while, 

And brother he will meet you, 
And baby, she will smile. 



114 



I see her in the distance 

Pure as a carrier dove; 
With arms outstretched for mamma 

That's a baby's holy love. 



We all had the same mother 
And her love was most divine, 

And you'll find it still clinging there 
Like the ivy green around the pine. 



Oh, give your love to mother. 
And visit her when she's sick, 

And try to relieve her distress — 
That's the way to make love stick. 



Then don't neglect your mother 

Through her few remaining years. 

And you'll be a true Rebekah 
In this lonely vale of tears. 



115 




WHAT IS ALL? WHEN ALL IS TOLD? 

T'S hard work to live when one is poor, 
And keep starvation from the door, 
And feed the children and clothe them fine. 
And bring them up to be pure in mind. 



You may work and drudge from morn till night, 
Yes, work hard with all your might; 
And when you've made a mint of gold. 
What is all, when all is told? 



If you're poor you can only live — 
Yet always ready one-half to give; 
But if you've made a mint of gold, 
What is all, when all is told? 



When the hour of death draws nigh 
The rich will always pass you by; 
But if you've made a mint of gold. 
What is all, when all is told? 

116 



Just try and live on easy street 
And smile at everyone you meet; 
For if you've made a mint of gold, 
What is all, when all is told? 



The price of your soul is far too high 
For the rich man's wealth to ever buy, 
And if he has a mint of gold, 
What is all, when all is told? 



No matter how little or much you've done, 
There is a standard we're measured on 
And if you've made a mint of gold. 
What is all, when all is told? 



Just give me enough, is all I ask, 

To lighten my poor old mother's task; 

And give me your blessing, it's more than gold, 

For it amounts to much, when all is told. 



I don't ask for wings so I can fly, 
But I want it said of me when I die — 
There is another one in our Saviour's fold 
That cannot be bought or sold. 

117 



THE SECOND GIRL. 




HE second girl is a precious gem — 
That unto us is given — 
Although she's figured second here, 
be reckoned first in heaven. 



She's as pure as the lily, 

And like the morning dove, most fair; 
Her eyes are deep as the ocean's blue, 

For there's virtue shining there. 



Of course there are exceptions 

To almost every rule; 
But the one that I allude to 

Received her training at Virtue's school. 



The rich may be the first on earth. 
But she has our Saviour's love. 

And although she's poor by birth. 
She'll not be second up above. 



118 




THE UPLIFTED HAND. 

1 OD bless the little old man, 

Whose faith in God is strong; 
We know his days are numbered, 
And 'twill not be very long. 



At times he's been too ill 

To send his petition on high, 

So he just raised his right hand, 
And the Lord never passed him by. 



May our faith be as strong as his, 
So that when we come to die, 

If we only raise our right hand, 
'Twill be seen by God on high. 



He's lived through many ages — 
Over four score years and ten- 

His right hand often uplifted. 
To be seen by God and men. 

When he goes to sleep at night, 
He's smiling through his tears, 

His hand is still uplifted 

Through his declining years. 

119 




THE FATAL SHOT. 

, I pity you, brother policeman, 

With your poor sad broken heart, 
When you sent that fatal bullet 
That glanced and missed its mark. 



And the mother has our sympathy, 
For he was the boy she loved; 

While our Saviour has poor Clarence 
In His mansion up above. 



They will miss him in the morning 
From his old accustomed place. 

And the smiles that often gathered 
On his bright and happy face. 



It was a sad mistake, 

That is why I grieve for you; 
You have the sympathy of many. 

Not only just a few. 

120 



You were only doing your duty 
When sent out upon a call, 

With seven years upon the force, 
And respected by one and all. 



No one feels as you do, 

And no one ever will 
Unless they're placed as you were. 

With a mission to fulfill. 



Your eyes are stained from tears, 
That you've shed while others slept, 

And you have our deepest sympathy 
For we know that "Jesus wept," 



Instead of calling it manslaughter, 
It should be rendered thus — 

That it was a fatal accident. 
And make it unanimous. 



121 



No matter what the verdict is, 
The time will come, you see, 

If rendered on its merits 
The judge will set you free. 



We're thankful to judge and jury 
For the verdict rendered thus — 

We knew if you did your duty 

'Twould be fatal accident unanimous. 



122 



^ 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING DAY. 

ANY summers have rolled away, 

And this is your golden wedding day, 
Frost has wrapped his mantle about your 
head. 
And your life companion is long since dead. 



The flowers and grasses nod o'er his grave 
And you, dear heart, stand with the brave. 
It's many years you've stood alone, 
Yet sweet memories of him to you are known. 



Winter's cloak its mantle of ermine has spread 
Many years like a fairy shawl over your dead, 
And still you sit alone through life 
And grieve for him — you faithful wife. 



Your children love you, I'm sure they do; 
But no one like that companion for you 
When in your solitude you sit alone. 
Remember He said, "I'll build you a home." 

123 



The plans the architect has laid 

Are drawn to reach beyond the grave ; 

There are no defects, they are perfect and grand, 

And drawn to be built by the upright man. 



You stood at the altar in early life, 
And pledged yourself a faithful wife; 
Faithful in life and death when anyone spoke 
And staunch and true as the grand old oak. 



They say he is dead, so content I'll wait — 
For the death angel always claims its mate. 
When I go, one parting kiss I'll take 
From my children, for death is but the gate. 



Yes, the gate to the City of Paradise 
In the beautiful realm beyond the skies; 
And Jesus our Saviour holds the key. 
And will unlock the door and let us see. 



124 




THE FAMOUS PICTURE. 

WILL draw you a little picture 
Of the rose of love in bloom, 
In the center of a garden, 
And give it lots of room. 



The picture will be a masterpiece 

I haven't any doubt. 
If you beautify the garden. 

By keeping the malice out. 



There's a place I'll enter this picture — 

'Twill be at the angels' fair 
I'll enter it for the first premium, 

For they give the blue ribbon there. 



And then this famous picture 
I'll hang on the walls above. 

So every one can see it 
Was made famous by His love. 

125 



Then if you will take a copy 
And hang it on memories' wall, 

I'm sure it will bring you happiness 
That cannot be fathomed at all. 



Don't put it in the storehouse 
Or the attic out of sight; 

But keep it in the sunshine 
And leave it there day and night. 



Where moth or rust will not corrode, 

And time will not decay, 
'Twill hang forever on memories' wall 

Until ages have passed away, 

(This received first premium October 5th, 1912, at 
the Grangers' Fair at Cazenovia, Michigan.) 



126 




FRIENDSHIP, OR WHO IS THY NEIGHBOR? 

HEN you find a friend that's good and true 
And steadfast to the .end, 
You'll find a hundred the other way 
That you thought had been your friend. 



Then clasp their hand in friendship true, 

And hold it till the end, 
And say as the Levite did of old, 

"He's my neighbor, who was my friend?" 

The one you take to be your friend 

Is often in disguise; 
So pick the good Samaritan dear, 

And prove that you are wise. 

The definition of a friend, 

You will learn in the time of neefl; 
They're not known by the clothes they wear 

But by their heroic deeds. 

It's all very well to depend on a friend. 
That is, if you've proved him true; 

But you'll find out in the longest run, 
It's the old instead of the new. 

127 




"THE HOLY CITY.'' 

OU may take the licentious person, 
And the man of the saintly brow, 
And harness them up together 
You'll have trouble anyhow. 



For he's used to drunken debauchery, 
He's been so steeped in sin, 

And work as hard as you will 
You can't make a man of him. 



You may dress him in silk or satin, 
And show him the better way; 

But he'll emanate to his level. 
No matter how much you say. 



When he reaches the river Jordan 
And sees the man with the saintly brow. 

He'll wish he had followed his teachings. 
And taken the heavenly vow. 



128 



For 'twill be his greatest comfort 
When his lamp of life burns dim, 

To know that he followed the teachings 
That were put in the book for him. 



May you never look back, my brother. 

O'er years of a wasted life, 
But enter the "Holy City" — 

Let righteousness be your strife. 



129 




WHEN WE UNDERSTAND. 

HEN we lay aside our troubles, 
And from all cares are free, 
And stand upon the other shore, 
I hope we will agree. 



It's been a hard old struggle. 

All our journey through 
The fault has been with me, dear child. 

Just as much as you. 



There'll come a time, my dear one, 
When from the world we're hid 

We'll never air our differences 
Beneath the coffin lid. 



Then put your trust in Him, 

When we're slipping o'er the brink. 
For when we get to that point 

There ain't much time to think. 



130 



Wlien we're ready for the journey 
May it be likened unto this — 

We'll clasp each others hand, 
And say, good bye, and kiss. 



The journey is a long one, 
While life on earth is short; 

We'll understand it better 

When the battle has been fought. 



131 




YOU'LL MISS ME. 

OU'LL miss me when I'm dead 

And you've said your last good-bye, 
You'll think of Uncle Ed. 
With a tear drop in your eye. 



They'll miss you just the same 
When your time has come to die, 

It's like when the water's gone 
And the well's run dry. 



Then put up with my small defects 
And I'll try to be perfect there, 

For we want a grand reunion 
In that bright realm over there. 



Forgive us what we've done amiss- 
For we're all so prone to err — 

And in the evening of our lifetime 
We will meet each other there. 

132 



We'll meet our broth-er loved ones, 
And those that have gone before, 

And play about our mother's knee 
As in the happy days of yore. 



For we will be as little children, 
And each one will know his place, 

And we'll know our dear old mother 
When we see her angel face. 



133 




ALWAYS SOMETHING. 

HERE is always something, 

When you've done the best you could; 
But to wish our poor dear father back, 
We wouldn't if we could. 



It's only a little while 
And we will go to him; 

He'll meet us at the Golden Gate, 
For I know they'll let him in. 



We'll tell him how we left things, 
But he won't want to know; 

For he dropped all earthly troubles 
When he left this vale below. 



Now mother don't be lonesome, 
For some day you may go; 

Your hair is getting whiter. 

And your steps are getting slow. 

134 



There was a promise made us — 

That we might join the heavenly feast. 

Now the one who made this promise 
Is called the "Star of the East." 



Yes, there is always something, 
Something until you die; 

Something, when Jesus takes you 
And we are left to cry. 



Then be ready for His coming, 
And do not bid Him wait, 

And we'll all be very happy, 
When we meet Him at the gate. 



135 



LITTLE JEWEL, OR THE SAYIOUR'S BLOSSOM. 




AMMA'S little fairy, 

The love bud of her heart, 
Given by the Saviour, 
And called her cupid's dart. 



Too sweet to stay on earth. 
So Jesus called her home 

To abide with him forever, 
And with the fairies roam. 



Mamma's bud and Jesus' blossom — 

The angel of our heart; 
We'll give her back to Jesus 

Though it breaks our heart to part. 



136 



OUR IJfFANT. 




WEETEST little Infant, 
God just loaned awhile, 
Came into our household. 
Just to breathe and smile. 



Only stayed a moment, 
Closed its eyes and went, 

Back unto our Saviour, 
One by whom 'twas sent. 



137 




LINES TO A FRIEND ON THE DEATH OF HER 
CHILD. 

HE death angel called your baby 
And wafted it on the breeze; 
But Jesus stood at the Golden Gate, 
Far above the trees. 



He opened His arms and received it, 
For it was only a bundle of love; 

It was only a gift He loaned you. 
In exchange for a mourning dove. 



Just a few years and we'll meet our children, 

In that bright and happy land. 
Headed by our Saviour 

And his beautiful angel band. 



138 



LITTLE ORPHAJf. 

s^^^^l E assured, my little orphan, 

That God takes care of all; 
He sees the mighty when they die, 
And counts the sparrows fall. 



And remember, little orphan. 
She is not feo far away. 

For Jesus only lent her, 
She did not come to stay. 



Then put your trust in Him, 
And obey all His commands, 

He will wash away our sins, 

That's the way to make your stand. 



Then dry your tears, little orphan, 
And don't make so great a fuss; 

And remember your poor dear mother 
Is better off than us. 



Sometimes the trials of life 
Are pretty hard to endure, 

But that blessed name of mother 
He respects forevermore. 

139 




WE MISS HIM. 

Lines on the death of Prof. Albert Jennings, Prin- 
cipal of the Union High School, Grand Rapids, Mich, 
who died Aug. 30, 1912. 

OOD-BYE our beloved brother— 
Yours was a well spent life. 
The tears we shed this morning 
Are for your lonely wife. 



Your work here was completed 

When you finished last year's term; 

You stayed to spend vacation 

But the Saviour for you yearned. 



So when vacation was ended, 
He claimed you for His own, 

It's another jewel in His crown 
To shine upon the throne. 



We shall miss you. Brother Jennnings, 

In all the walks of life 
That you were wont to travel in, 

In this weary toil and strife. 

140 



May all our brothers and sisters, 
And your scholars and pupils too, 

Meet you up in heaven 
And their education renew. 



I wish my poem was better, 

But I'm not competent to the task; 

For yours was the valedictory. 
When Jesus said, "Home at Last." 



141 




A PRAYER FOR BABY. 

H, God in Heaven, our Saviour too, 
And the little children's friend. 
Help our dear baby to make the grade 
And be with her to the end. 



Let your presence like a shining light 

niuminate the way, 
Stand by these parents in their grief, 

And keep baby through the day. 



Yes, keep her many years to come. 

We are so selfish here, 
We humbly bow our heads and ask. 

That we may keep the little dear. 



142 




SYMPATHY. 

Composed and written September 29, 1912, at 3:30 
a. m. for an afflicted friend, 

H you poor afflicted sister, 
Lying on a bed of pain. 
I pray to God our Heavenly Father, 
Give you health and strength again. 



Touch her with your hand, dear Saviour, 
That she may be free from pain; 

I only ask you this, dear Father — 
Just to make her well again. 



Let her feel j^our healing power, 
And the goodness of your heart. 

And the milk of human kindness 

Will strength and nourishment impart. 



Well leave it all with you, dear Father, 
For we know you know what's best; 

We've resigned to do your bidding, 
And your goodness will do the rest. 

143 



LINES ON THE DEATH OF OUR DRUGGIST. 



m%>s 



RAND RAPIDS' most famous druggist, 
And a christian that is more, 
Bui; when the time came right 



He rapped upon your door. 



It was a hard blow, Rolland, 

For us to let Him in. 
But the reason that He wanted you, 

Is because you were free from sin. 



We hope some day to greet you. 
In a land that's free from pain, 

Robert and I will meet you 
And live our lives again. 



We'll finish our ride in a chariot. 
Made of gold without alloy; 

Papa, mamma and Robert — 
Our own dear darling boy. 



The chariot will be like a boat 
With Jesus at the helm. 

And we'll all be reunited, 

At last in that heavenly realm. 

144 




YOUR BUD AND OUR BLOSSOM. 

OUR precious gems loaned for a while, 
From the Master up above, 
We could not see one go astray 
While our hearts were filled with love. 

You have a bud of promise, 

Yes, we know she is your own. 
Oh! do to others as you should 

For we reap as we have sown. 

You will never know the feelings 

Of a heart that is in despair. 
Until you are put in the same place; 

There is nothing that can compare. 

May you never meet dishonor 

Or be a fallen man ; 
At least not in the sense 

That you must rest beneath the ban. 

May heaven's richest blessings forever and a day 
Be yours, 'till forgotten actions are forever swept 

away. 
And as you go through life wherever your pathways 

meet. 
May our Saviour's be the hand to place you on your 

feet. 

145 



A PRAYER FOR TEDDY. 

AY God be with you, Teddy Roosevelt, 
Through this dark and trying hour. 
May the blessings from your opponents 
Be a universal shower. 



May your sickness be of short duration, 
That we may hear your voice again 

Sounded o'er this mighty nation — 
I pray it may be so ordained. 



Thou, Oh God, and Great Jehovah, 
Shower your blessings down on him. 

And deal justly with the ruffian 
Who committed the awful sin. 



Like Cain he did not repent. 
So God put a mark on him; 

Now every one that sees him 

Knows God will punish for that sin. 

The sad news of your misfortune 
Spread like wild fire to every town; 

But the message from our nation is» 
"You can't keep a good man down. 

146 




IN MEMORY. 

OW we miss you, Sister Watzek, 
Words of ours can ne'er express 
But we know our Heavenly Father 
Doeth all things for the best. 



And we know, dear Sister, 
You have lived this life sublime, 

And was ready when He called you 
To come across the border line. 



We shall miss you, our dear Sister, 
From your old accustomed place, 

And the smiles that often gathered 
On your bright and happy face. 



And we hope some day to meet you 
When we cross the border line. 

When the Master holds the sickle. 
And the bells ring forth their chime. 



We can but extol your virtues — 

For we know you were good and true — 

And we loved you, our dear Sister, 
You were one of the chosen few. 

147 




THE FUNDAMENTAL PRINCIPLES. 

EAR Lord, Our Great Physician, 
Please won't you be my friend? 
Add to my health by giving strength 
To the hand that holds the pen. 



Substract from my affliction 
Until mine shall be a glad "Amen," 

And yours, shall be the lines praiseworthy, 
From the hand that holds the pen. 



Multiply it by your healing power, 
For your goodness is akin 

To the division of the future, 
For the hands that hold the pen. 



148 




THE REUKIO^. 

E meet once again, old neighbors, I'm told, 
A.t Maggie's, we meet the young and the 
old, 

And this is the place we hold most dear, 
It brings back the memories of many a year. 



When we lived on the dear old farm. 
In Laten township, and meant no harm 
To any one of our loyal crowd. 
For gossip with us was not allowed. 



We're so happy to meet you once again 
That from these expressions we cannot refrain; 
Some have married and moved away, 
While others have settled down to stay. 



Some have gone to the better land; 
But some day we'll meet — you understand. 
We'll meet the young as well as the old. 
And renew our good time in the heavenly fold. 

149 




A MISPLACED CONFIDENCE. 

H God, our Heavenly Father, 

Let your hand rest on our child: 
Show her the pangs of evil, 
But keep her pure and mild. 



Let her's never be the motto 

Wliich reads at a heart's expense, 

When we look back in after years — 
A misplaced confidence. 



Show her the value of a friend 
That is free from stain and guile, 

And across the troubled waters. 
Pour the oil of your sweet smile. 



Teach her all the magnificence 
Of a confidence well kept. 

But for a misplaced confidence 
Our Saviour, "Jesus wept." 



And through all the years to come. 

After we have striven, 
May our motto read like this — 

"'Twas not misplaced in heaven." 

150 




TO MY MOTHER. 

September 25, 1912. 

OU'VE reached the age of seventy-one 
And the trials of life are nearly done; 
May its joys and blessings outnumber the 
rest, 
And your years to come in sunshine be blest. 



May you live to enjoy two score more, 
Before the Death Angel knocks upon your door, 
And when He does may that smile serene 
Be the sweetest in death 'twas ever seen. 



Your husband awaits you on the other shore- 
He's standing ready to tide you o'er, 
The Master has made him boatsman you see, 
So 'twill be easy sailing for you and me. 



There's nothing to fear it's all so plain, 
We've nothing to lose and all to gain. 
Our band of four will reunited be. 
When the tide goes out and He sets us free. 

151 




GOD'S BEST GIFT TO MAK. 

H Woman, lovely Woman, 

Ever since the world began. 
Loved and fondled and caressed, 
Thou art God's best gift to man. 



Thou art mother of the Saviour, 
And it's always been your plan 

To be with the little children, 
And give them the helping hand. 



You were once a little infant, 
And beloved as we love you; 

Now you've grown to noble womanhood, 
With a higher point in view. 

We love you for your chastity. 
You're so noble, grand and true; 

And when noted for your purity. 
You are like the morning dew. 

May all the praises fall on you 
Wherever you lay your hand, 

Wherever you leave a foot print, 
For you're God's best gift to man. 

152 




THE THREAD OF LIFE. 

the joy of life can never be told, 
When you clasp your young son to your 
breast, 

But the sorrows of life are one hundred fold, 
When you lay him away to rest. 

Chorus — 

Oh I'll kiss him once for the love he brought, 

As he lay so sweet in my arms. 
And the battle of life was bravely fought, 

But the Arch Angel held the charms. 



Oh, the thread of life is a tender cord, 

And some day we'll have to let go. 
And the angels will sing with one accord. 

It is well, and be it so. 

Chorus — 

Fare thee well, fare thee well, fare thee well, my 
darling son. 

You was dear mamma's love, but you're in the heav- 
en above. 

Fare thee well my darling one. 

(To the tune of "My Old Kentucky Home.") 
153 




so MOTE IT BE. 

HERE'S a shining light on the golden shore 
Where, some day, the blind will see. 
The promise was made forevermore, 
When He said, "So mote it be." 



There will be forever a cloudless day, 
And we'll never have any more night. 

The flowers will bloom as they do in May, 
And the blind shall receive their sight. 



Oh! I said good-bye to the world long ago- 
The night that my sight left me; 

And this I want you all to know, 
I'm as happy as I can be. 



I lost it here, but I gained it there. 
When He said believe in me. 

It was better to me than Vanity Fair 
When He said, "So mote it be." 

154 




HER IXDIA^ LOVER, 

iTllN Indian met a white girl while skipping 
o'er the lawn, 
He called this little white girl my pretty- 
little fawn; 
He called her all the pretty names an Indian ever 

heard, 
And his heart went out in rapture to the pretty little 
bird. 

Chorus — 

She had the prettiest lover a white girl ever knew; 
But unto her Indian lover the white girl said, skidoo. 



I'll take you to my wigwam, my pretty palefaced 

bird, 
For the Indian is steadfast and always keeps his 

word. 
If you will come with me and always be as true, 
I'll take you down the river in my little birch canoe. 

Chorus — 

She had the prettiest lover a white girl ever knew; 
But unto her Indian lover the white girl said, skidoo. 



155 



His heart was rent asunder when she would not be 

his bride, 
So this pretty Indian lover just laid him down and 

died; 
They laid him near the green sward where first he 

met his love, 
And now his faithful spirit guards her from above. 

Chorus — 

She had the prettiest lover a white girl ever knew; 
But unto her Indian lover the white girl said, skidoo. 



156 



LIFE'S MIRROR, 




HIS life is but a mirror, 

The reflections are your own, 
When once the mirror is broken 
There's many a bitter moan. 



There's many a heart that's aching 
O'er reflections of the past, 

But live the life Christ taught you 
And your mirror will always last. 



It's hard to keep this mirror 
Without a crack or nick, 

But to keep it from being broken 
Is quite a different trick. 



157 




DEEAMLAND. 

P we could read the inmost thoughts 
Of the hearts that are in despair, 
We would trim anew our candle true, 
And let love's light shine there. 



Could we catch a beam of a golden dream 

As it flitted o'er the trees, 
And waft it back along the track, 

Or on the gentle breeze. 



And have it caught by the one 'twas sought 
And love though the years be few, 

'Twould gladden the hearts to never part, 
In the land where dreams come true. 



158 




MT COPYRIGHT. 

EAR friend if you will listen 
To me without a fear, 
I'll tell you about my copyright. 
Which to me is very dear. 



First my poems came to me. 

And in Jesus I believe, 
And that's the only reason, 

These are rights that I've achieved. 



A copyright amounts to nothing. 
And patent rights are on the bum, 

Unless you believe in Jesus, 
And combine the two in one. 



Apply at the Library of Congress, 
With all of your credentials great. 

If you do not believe in Jesus, 
Pray what will be your fate? 

159 



Then contract with the printer 
And conspirators abhor, 

With your trust in Jesus say 
My copyright's applied for. 



With copyrights applied for, 
And work only just begun, 

I hope it will be granted, 
When my title page is done. 



When my copyright is granted 
With the Saviour up above, 

I hope to win the laurels 
And the object of my love. 



160 




MY TITLE PAGE. 

N middle life I began to think 
My work was nearly done; 
But I awoke to the realization 
That it had only just begun. 



I started to write a book one day, 
It was in the month of May. 

Now what will be your title page? 
I heard the printer say. 



Just one kind word to help me on- 
In letters of shining gold — 

If put upon the title page 
Could not be bought or sold. 



My leaves will be of pure white. 
And gold will be their edge; 

And you'll speak of me more kindly 
When you read my title page. 



161 



When you awake from your title page, 
And the last chapter has been read; 

Post mortem praises don't count for much, 
After a feller is dead. 



'All is not gold that glitters," 
No matter however handsome; 

'When I can read my title clear" 
'Twill be better than a King's ransom. 



When you look upon my title page 
With the index close at hand, 

I feel you'll know the authoress 
In that fair and happy land. 



Then don't give up, my dearest friend. 
And remember all is not lost; 

You'll receive lifers benediction 

When life's rubicon has been crossed. 



When my leaves have all been turned 
And you peruse my book with care. 

May you look upon God's title page. 
And find my inscription there. 

162 




THE DAYTON FLOOD. 

H Dayton, our sister city, 

While your star was at its height, 
Rushed the waters of the Miami 
Bringing with it much afright. 



It took you in the morning, 
Many people had been warned 

That the breaking of the levee 
Meant to everyone much harm. 



Some there were who heeded warning 
And a place of safety sought; 

While their dear, beloved companions 
In the seething flood were caught. 



And the water bore down upon them 
Until its depth was twenty feet — 

And its poor and helpless victims 
Were like feathers in the street. 



163 



Then a fire burst upon them 
In the twinkling of an eye; 

When an oil tank struck the exchange 
And sent its flames on high. 



And the terror-stricken city, 
In its awful hour of gloom, 

Carried on its rushing waters 
Precious burdens to the tomb. 



But the waters, in their terror, 
Rushing by so deep and fast. 

Sometime will find its level 
For it cannot always last. 



Every cloud has a silver lining. 
And poor Dayton has one too; 

And we'll thank our Heavenly Father, 
Though the survivors score a few. 



164 



Out of those that lived to thank you 
From the Miami's bad rampage, 

Is the baby in the pillow slip — 
May its name go down in age. 



One hundred feet above the waters, 
Though 'twas such a tiny bit, 
It slid the cable to its mamma 
By its papa's heroic grit. 



165 




THANK YOU. 

ON'T forget the little "thank you' 
That you should give in life, 
And always do a kindness 
To your husband and your wife. 



Give the praises to the living, 
And remember he is brave 

Who is filled with love and giving 
In the shadow of the grave. 



The rose that means "I love you,' 
Is the bright one that is red; 

Give it to me while I'm living, 
I won't want it when I'm dead. 



Just one more word, I thank you, 
For the praises you have given, 

And the kindness you have done me, 
Are recorded up in heaven. 

166 



MIRTH 




THE ISSUE OF THE DAY. 

OME say that Teddy will get it, 
And some say Wm. Taft; 
But give us the one that can truly say, 
You may keep your half and half. 



We want no alliance with England, 
So that she can wield the rod; 

But give us the one that is able to say, 
He has an alliance with God. 



We care not which one it is— 
So long as his priciples are right; 

Then each one will give him a boost, 
And help him to win the fight. 



169 




MAUDE MILLER ON THE TITANIC. 

AUDE Muller, on a nice spring day, 
Boarded the Titanic and rode away. 



Beneath her lid tliere beamed a smile, 
And she was singing all the while. 

Singing she rode, and in her glee 
Everyone thought she was on a spree. 

But when she was far from Labrador's shore. 
And realized it would soon be o'er. 

The sweet song died, and a strange unrest. 
And something like terror filled her breast. 

And in the stillness a whistle was heard. 
Oh what if we should strike a berg. 

The judge walked by on the deck above 
And she looked to him like a carrier dove. 

From the place where he spied her he could hardly 

see, 
So down the stairs he went — jumps one, two, three. 



170 



Then up he went and stood by her side, 

The man that gets you should be filled with pride. 

Then he went away and she saw him no more, 
But perhaps they will meet on the Evergreen shore. 

If I could live and die with that girl by my side, 
Out of all the nation, she should be my bride. 

A man of brains and a peasant child. 

Who would have thought she'd have been his style. 

Just then the boat made an awful noise. 
And high in the air her stern she poised. 

The time that she stood there seemed more than a 

minute. 
But less than that time it took to tell it. 

The thought that flashed upon Maude's mind, 
Was I wonder if the judge will be left behind. 

I would gladly be a mermaid down in the sea. 

If when I reached heaven the judge's bride I could be. 

I've been pretty bad, allowing me to be judge. 
But never intemperate in anything but fudge. 



171 



J wonder if God will forgive me, when he sees how- 
bad I've been? 
I never sported with women, or run around with men. 

"Alas for the judge, alas for the maid; 
Dreams were only their stock in trade." 

For of all sad words of tongue or pen, 
We cannot tell what might have been. 

Ah! well for them both; hope still remains 
For the peasant child and the man of brains. 

And, in the hereafter, angels may 

Pull down the barrier that blocked the way. 



172 




THE PICNIC. 

E'RE off to the coal dealers' picnic, 
Down at Jenison Park; 
V/e'll stay all day, have a good time. 
And we won't come home until dark. 



We'll have a chicken dinner 
And we want you all to come; 

It'll be served by Cateress Gage 
And we'll warrant it A Number One. 



Then, we'll have our games and sport, 

And ride upon the lake. 
Come back and have our supper, 

And the car for home we'll take. 



The coal men are a jolly bunch. 
And always full of laughter; 

I would rather shovel coal on earth, 
Than in the great hereafter. 



They're a tired lot of fellows. 
Of that you need have no fear. 

They've had a plenty of lager. 
But they'll be on hand next year. 

173 




BACK FROM THE PICNIC. 

E'RE back from the coal dealers' picnic, 
Lake Harbour was the park; 
We stayed all day, had a good time, 
And didn't get home until dark. 



We had a first-class dinner, 

And all were pleased that came; 

There was only one thing lacking 
To make it just the same. 



It's this that I would tell you, 
For although we liked the place. 

The dinner served by Cateress Gage 
Last year, is not effaced. 



The reason we went to Lake Harbour 

I will tell you every one. 
And left old Jenison Park, 

Was to local option shun. 



174 



We had our games and sport, 
And a ride upon the lake, 

And when we had our supper. 
You bet we took the cake. 



We certainly were a jolly bunch, 
And full of riddles and jokes; 

We would rather puff the pipe of peace 
Than in the hereafter smoke. 



We are tired, to be sure, 

But' I'll try and make it clear. 

It won't take but little coaxing 
To bring us back next year. 



For it's good-bye Jenison Park, 
You've always used us fine. 

And when we cross the Harbour bar, 
May we be welcomed home in time. 



175 




THE ASPIRING WOMAN. 

O find a job for your husband, 
And let him wear the pants; 
He's just as smart as you are, 
It's only you who thinks he can't. 



I can't never did anything; 

But he is the one that can. 
The only credit you gave him. 

Was for being a laboring man. 



If you aspired to something higher, 

Why didn't you get a balloon? 
Then you could have sailed among the stars. 

And married the man in the moon. 



Remember the day you took him. 
And the day that he took you; 

Hasn't he always been faithful, 
And hasn't he always been true? 

176 



stand by him in the springtime, 
And the noonday of your life; 

And remember, he's the same today 
As when you became his wife. 



Now you're growing old together. 
And your hairs are turning gray. 

May your path be strewn with roses 
Along life's rugged way. 



You have reached your sixtieth mile stone- 
It's a long time when you look ahead, 

But not so long in looking backward; 
Soon you're numbered with the dead. 



177 



TEDDY AND BILL AT THE CONVENTION. 




E'RE off to Chicago, says Teddy, 
I don't give a rip, says Bill. 
You will always find Teddy ready 
But they'll nominate me, says Bill. 



Will the ushers please pass the water, 
And give Teddy time to think; 

There is only one place that's hotter, 
But you can't drive Bill to drink. 



178 




IT'S BIDDY I LOVE YOU. 

H! Biddy I love you, and will you be mine? 
I've thought of this question many a time; 
I've watched through the window, when 
you're making tea, 
And wondered if ever you'd make it for me. 

Chorus — 

It's Biddy I love you, it's Biddy I do, 
It's Biddy your Patsy will always be true. 



I'll take you back to Dublin's shore; 
Where the green shamrock grows we'll live evermore. 
Oh! Biddy I love you, because you're so sweet, 
You're an agel complete from the soul to the feet. 

Chorus — 

It's Biddy I love you, it's Biddy I do, 
It's Biddy your Patsy will always be true. 



179 



By the side of the candle with the cross in your 

hand, 
You were ready to obey our Father's command; 
That's the reason I love you because you are pure. 
And the trials of life are hard to endure. 

Chorus — 

It's Biddy I love you, it's Biddy I do, 
It's Biddy your Patsy will always be true. 



Now give me a kiss, and promise to me 
That you'll be my Biddy, I will says she. 
For I love you the same as you love me. 
Was the answer she gave to Patsy McGee. 

Chorus — 

It's Biddy I love you, it's Biddy I do. 

It's Biddy your Patsy will always be true. 

(Tune Irish Washerwoman.) 



180 




THE MENAGERIE. 



n 
HE white man has his baby. 



And the Indian his papoose, 
The old hen has her chickens. 
And the goslin has its goose. 



The darkey has his pickaninnie. 
And the Chinaman has his cue: 

When the old cat has her kittens 
You might as well skidoo. 



The canary has its birdies, 
And the dog has his pups; 

It'll keep you all a guessing 
To keep this right side up. 



The dove will find its mate, 
The hawk will find her's too; 

But when mated up together, 
That's a thing 'twill never do. 

181 



The horse has his colt, 
And the cow has her calf, 

The lover has his sweetheart, 
But then that isn't half. 



The lion has its whelps 
And the bear has its cub; 

The gambler leaves his wife 
And is off lo the club. 



The deer has its fawn, 

And the ewe has its lamb; 

Taft and Teddy fought, 
But the battle was a sham. 



The wife has her husband — 

They've had many a bitter strife; 

And although he is a lobster 

You may bet he insured his life. 



The jack has its Jennie, 

And the eagles have their young; 
The fishes have their minnies, 

Or I'm a son of a gun. 

182 




THE GOLDEN CROWN. 

HEN I'm one hundred and eight years old, 
With two curls a hanging down, 
I'll not be hanging around this place 
To receive a golden crown. 



I'll be in a place that's free from pain, 
And they don't need dentists there — 

And glyco-thymoline will be laid aside, 
And also vitalized air. 



It's all very well to use cocaine, 

And such rubbish as that on earth; 
But when you meet the maid with the silver curls 

You'll give the forceps a very. width berth. 



But when you arise to compete for the prize. 
In the land of the Golden Crown, 

And see all the people you've tortured here. 
You will smile instead of frown. 



183 



And after the prize has been handed to you- 

In that place that is so fair — 
After winning your earthly laurels here, 

I hope I will meet you there. 



When I reach that heavenly palace, 
The place that is so grand, 

I'll peek in every corner 

And look for the dental man. 



When I'm one hundred and eight years old, 

You'll be a great deal more 
If you're noted for such longevity here, 

When'll you reach the other shore? 



184 




HOW JESSE JAMES ENTERED HEAVEX— NIT. 

ESSE James was an outlaw, 

And although big and brave, 
Was shot by a coward's bullet 
And laid in a criminal's grave. 



A large reward was offered, 

Dead or alive for him; 
So Ford pulled the trigger, 

His companion in crime and sin. 



The time he took to do it, 
Jesse stood upon a chair. 

With belt lying upon the bed, 
Adjusting a picture there. 



You see his back was toward him, 
And reward to a coward looks big. 

When Jesse knew his time had come. 
He said, "On Ford I'll get the rig." 



183 



I'll be at the gate in heaven, 

Beside St. Peter fair, 
And I'll see that you don't enter 

For they don't have cowards there. 



We'll be face to face when I meet you, 
But you'll be outside the gate. 

I'll be sitting on a golden stool 
But you'll have to stand and wait. 



Yes, of course, St. Peter will let me in, 
For he loves the big and brave; 

He has no use for the coward 
That laid him in his grave. 



Why when he saw me coming 
His smiles were just the same; 

He looked up quick, and said, 
"Why here comes Jesse James." 



186 



He signaled for the band boys 
And the chariot man to come; 

They loaded me right in the car, 
And in that way I went home. 



I never thought I'd get there, 

Any more than you. 
And wasn't surprised when he said to me, 

"You'd better step back, skidoo." 



187 




HOT TIME. 

WOULD rather be a thrifty farmer's wife, 
Leading a good true honest rural life, 
Free as the winds that blow from north to 
south. 
Instead of living the meal from hand to mouth. 



The way they do in the noisy city din. 

When the poor, hard-working laborer comes in 

After a day of toil upon the street, 

A welcome smile at home he's sure to meet. 



He works so hard to keep them all alive; 
His poor, scant earnings he must divide with five. 
He's tired and cross and when the day is done — 
What was intended for five was not enough for one. 



No wonder he's discouraged with all the bills to pay, 
The house rent over due upon that very day; 
The landlord served a notice upon them to get out, 
The neighbors wondered what 'twas all about. 

188 



There's money in the budget to keep us all alive; 
If divided equally the poor man could thrive. 
There's only cne thing they'll never try to rob, 
It's the filth that sticks to the man who smells of 
his job. 



We appeal to the Board of Health for a twenty-five 

cent raise. 
There are some that you've given altogether too 

much praise. 
I'll have my raise or I'll quit my job, that's all. 
And there'll be a hot time in the old town tonight. 



189 



Prom the very beginning to the farthest end, 
These are all my poems, my dearest friends; 
Keep truth and justice on your side. 
And the Saviour alone will be your guide. 



190 

W18 



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